style="font-size:15px;"> Then the doorbell sounded, breaking the spell, and Erin started to get up. Slade’s hand shot out and touched her arm briefly. Her gaze dropped to his hand as if she’d felt the same tiny jolt he had. He heard her gasp softly when she saw the scars. Her gaze flew back up to meet his, and he let his hand fall away from her.
“What else did you see?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” she whispered. “That was all.”
But that was enough, Slade thought grimly. In fact, too damned much.
Erin Ramsey had seen silver eyes glowing in the dark.
* * *
Erin’s hands trembled as she crossed the room to answer the door. She didn’t like to admit that Detective Slade had left her so shaken, so uncertain of her own emotions. She’d never met a man quite like him before.
But, of course, she’d just found her sister—her only family—dead in the backyard. Erin suspected she was still in shock. No doubt that was why Detective Slade had affected her so strangely.
Trying to summon the last vestiges of her courage, she drew open the front door. A woman she had never seen before stood on the other side.
“You must be Erin,” the woman said. “I came just as soon as I heard.” She was tall, towering over Erin by several inches, and she had the most extraordinary red hair Erin had ever seen. It flowed down her back, almost to her waist, and even in the dim hallway light, the thick ringlets blazed with fire. She was dressed all in black—tight leggings, a loose knit sweater and high leather boots. She hovered on the threshold as if waiting for Erin to invite her inside.
Erin said, “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”
“My name is Racine DiMeneci,” the redhead said. “I live downstairs. I saw Dr. Traymore in the hallway. He told me what happened.” Tears filled the woman’s green eyes. “I talked to Megan just a few hours ago and now…I can’t believe…she’s gone….”
“Won’t you come in?” Erin said, opening the door wider so the woman could enter.
“I won’t stay long,” Racine promised, unobtrusively blotting the corners of her eyes with a lace hankie as she stepped inside. “I just had to tell you how sorry I am. If there’s anything at all I can do—” She broke off when she saw Detective Slade.
He was standing near the fireplace, watching them with the same shuttered scrutiny that had unsettled Erin earlier. He was holding one of the pictures Megan had kept displayed on the mantel, but as Racine and Erin entered the room, he turned and set it down with hardly more than a glance.
Racine looked back at Erin. “I don’t mean to intrude. I probably should have called first, but I hated to think of you being up here all alone. It must have been such a horrible shock. I still can’t believe it myself….” Her words trailed away again as she glanced back at Detective Slade.
Erin wondered what his reaction would be to such an overtly beautiful woman, but she could tell nothing by his expression. Slowly he walked toward them, and even Racine seemed intimidated by his formidable appearance.
“I’m Detective Slade,” he said.
Racine’s gaze flickered with uncertainty as if she didn’t quite believe him. “Do…I know you from somewhere?” she asked almost reluctantly, almost fearfully.
“Not likely,” he said tonelessly. “How well did you know Megan Ramsey?”
“We were friends.” Racine’s green eyes filled with tears again. She dropped down onto the couch, her legs crumpling. Erin sat beside her, and Racine reached for her hand, clutching it in her own. The intimacy of the action startled Erin. She wanted to draw her hand back. She wasn’t used to closeness, to this easy familiarity. She wasn’t used to friendships of any kind, but Racine seemed oblivious to Erin’s discomfort.
Detective Slade remained standing, gazing down at them from behind those mysterious glasses. “When was the last time you saw her alive?”
“Last night. Megan had the lead role in a play at the Alucard Theater, and the director, Roman Gerard, had been spending a lot of extra time, you know, coaching her. But there wasn’t a rehearsal last night so she came home early, around nine, I think. We spoke for a few minutes, then she said she was going to change her clothes and go back out to meet a friend.”
“Do you know who?”
Racine shrugged. “She didn’t say, but I assumed it was someone from the play. There’s this nightclub down by the river where a lot of actresses and actors hang out. I don’t recall the name of it, but the outside is painted black and the windows are all boarded up, you know, as if it’s deserted or something.”
“I know the one you mean,” Slade said. “Did you ever go there with her?”
“A couple of times.” Racine hesitated. A strange darkness passed across her features, a mere flicker, but it left Erin with a vague feeling of unease, a nagging little worry that there were more things in this room left unspoken than were being revealed.
Racine’s gaze met Erin’s, then she glanced away. She took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “Lately, Megan seemed to go there quite a lot. At first she said it helped her to understand the character she was portraying in the play. Then later, I think…I think she became obsessed with that club and with things that were, you know…not quite normal….”
“What do you mean?” Erin asked quickly.
“The supernatural,” Racine said, avoiding Erin’s gaze. “People go to that club pretending to be…vampires.”
An eerie chill stole up Erin’s spine. “Are you saying that Megan went there because she believed in vampires?” A memory of the last conversation she’d had with her sister flashed through Erin’s mind. Megan had seemed fascinated by Demon Lover, Erin’s latest novel. She’d asked Erin countless questions about her research for the book, but at the time Erin had given it little thought. It wasn’t until later, when she’d begun to suspect her sister was in trouble, that Erin had thought back on their conversation. She could hear Megan’s voice now, as clearly as if she stood in the room with her.
“Do you believe in vampires, Erin?”
Erin’s own response had been automatic. “Of course not. Demon Lover came from my imagination, Megan. He doesn’t exist.”
“But what if he does?” Megan had insisted.
As the dialogue floated through her mind, Erin’s gaze moved upward, almost against her will, to Detective Slade. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew his gaze was on her, as well, and she felt an almost physical jolt.
His mouth had tightened into a grim line, giving his face an even harsher, more formidable appearance. Abruptly he reached past her and picked up his coat. His hand skimmed her arm, and a dangerous shiver sliced through Erin.
“Someone will be talking to you again later today,” he said. “We’ll need statements, but I won’t trouble you anymore tonight. In the meantime, I advise you both to exercise caution. Don’t go out alone after dark. Don’t open your door to strangers and don’t invite anyone
